Page 285 of The Edge of Darkness

This was a blessing from the gods.

Some of the fae shifted uneasily, while others held their palms up to catch a few drops and get a closer look at the miracle as it happened.

“Lift your ashes to the sky!” Nivelle cried out, spinning in place, reveling in the crimson as it coated her face, her clothes.

Throughout the trees, the Dionachs did as she asked.

Then, as quick as it came, the blood transitioned into water, cold and cleansing. It showered us once more, leaving a strange, invigorating sensation in its wake.

Nivelle’s blue markings faded back to gray, and without a word, she turned and made her way through the night-drenched forest toward camp. Everyone’s attention followed her, but next to me, Silas watched Remic.

Standing over the altar, Remic seemed as if he were in a trance, staring at the body that lay before him. The black paint had bled from his face and neck, leaving diluted trails that stretched the length of his abdomen. His chest and wings were the only things that moved as he breathed and stared.

Niall leaned closer to Silas. “What do you sense?”

Silas tilted his head. “I sense he has found whatever he was searching for.”

The rain had ceased. The forest had quieted. Darkness sank back in as the last of the torchlight drifted off through the trees toward camp.

Drip . . . Drip.

The male’s blood was cold now, muddied with the remnants of the rain. It looked like ink glistening on the stone under the moonlight.

Drip.

Each drop splattered on the soil at my feet.

I did not know the fae’s name. He never gave it. I supposed Vanir would know. But none of that mattered now. The stranger would be remembered not by his name, but as the one who sacrificed himself to the gods.

The notion came to me the moment I slit his throat and saw the hope still in his eyes as he beheld a realm I could not see. There was pain, yes. The pain from his mortal body giving out and transitioning into the beyond. But there was also fulfillment. He had given his life to a cause that was greater than himself, not because someone told him to, but because he felt it was the right thing to do. And strangely, it was in that stranger’s final moments that I realized something vital about myself.

The pain I had harbored for so long, the worthlessness, the aimless course I thought I was on, those were things that only I felt. Those were not the things that others knew me for. I had been so caught up in my woes and searching for a purpose, that I had overlooked an entire lifetime of the good I’d done.

I thought participating in this ceremony would reset my mind—right all the wrongs in my head. And it did . . . in a way I had not expected it to. And when Nivelle had touched my face, it was not her behind the gesture, it was Torin, seeing through the witch’s eyes, speaking with the witch’s tongue.

The noble warrior, she’d called me.

I had not earned those three words from following orders. I had no orders. No wardeness to give them. No Dionam to my name.

I earned those three words from my own actions and my own resolve.

I thought I needed confirmation of my worth from someone else, but my worth was not measured by another’s instruction. It was found in the lives I’d affected along the way. I did not need a wardeness or a goddess to tell me who I was meant for. I had protected Niall, Roirdan, Aremis, and countless others. All because I’d chosen to.

If the fates were guiding my hand, they led me straight to Auren. I felt it in my gut the moment I met her. Whether that feeling was as strong as what Saxon or Silas described, I did not care anymore.

I needed no other validation but my own.

My life was Auren’s. She was the one I chose.

And that was enough.

The stillness in the night air began as a calm and almost peaceful lull. But as the hours stretched closer to dawn, that stillness grew more ominous.

After the sacrifice and the blood rain, things felt different. It was like a blanket of solemnity had fallen over every being, including me. This was my first war. My first glimpse at how something like this actually came about. And it was nothing like I thought it would be.

I’d always assumed war was quick, abrupt. That it came like a thief in the night and raged in all its glory until one side stood victorious. But I hadn’t given any consideration to the time leading up to it. It wasn’t just a sudden onslaught and retaliation. War had meetings, and planning, and strategy, and lots of waiting.

Strange, to be waiting for war.